


Young Cookie Love

by Basmathgirl



Category: Fright Night (2011), The Office (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Tatennant, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt AU: "I always see you in the mall I work at and you always look upset so I made you some cookies now cheer up, Mr. Grumpypants" - basically a cookie trap with more than one motive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Cookie Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrgazzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrgazzer/gifts).



Nellie Bertram huffed a sigh and repositioned the elastic band that held her long ginger hair in place. It was official: she was bored. Bored bored bored! 

That was the problem with this time of day; almost everybody had gone home. Well, everybody except her.

Sneaking a quick look around the level of the shopping mall she stood on, she took a few cautious steps forward, away from the serving bar of the coffee shop she worked in every Saturday, and headed for the handrail. From there she could look down onto the level below, where a few shoppers were still scurrying about, buying last minute bargains. Nobody had time for a coffee and a quick sit down. No, they were keen to get home and settled in for the night. 

She'd been doing this job for nine months now and the only time it had got exciting was round about Christmas time. Part of her denied the true reason why, and she pretended it had been to do with the general excitement caused by the Christmas atmosphere. But that was a lie. The real reason should appear any second now....

Ah, there he was. Peter Vincent. 

Slinking away from the doorway of a shop was a tall, lanky, dark-haired lad. He went to her school, and she had recognised him instantly that first day he had wandered past her shop. His day began and ended slightly earlier than hers. This information had came via Linda Weston, who knew Karen, who worked with Emma, who was friends of the sister of the store manager, Betsy. 

Not that she had actively sought out the information. It had just sort of happened to get back to her, like things did. 

As she watched him, he ascended the up escalator, and got closer by the second. Any moment now he would pass her and head towards the door that led to the parking bays of the car park that flanked that side of the shopping mall. Apparently he had a motorbike, but she'd never seen him on it. Had fantasised about seeing him plenty of times though. 

Straightening the fall of the skirt of her uniform, she prepared herself to make her move, as it were, and finally meet him. Accidentally, of course. How else would you do it? She then stepped back from the handrail, pretended she had never been there in the first place, and headed back to the serving bar of the coffee shop behind her. 

So far, so good.

He was quite close now, and it was time to make herself known. Dipping a hand into her right pocket, she drew out a handful of pennies, and surreptitiously dropped them onto the floor; right as he reached the periphery of the store.

“Oh no!” she cried, using all her best acting skills, and squatted to retrieve them. It meant she was looking up at him when she uttered her rehearsed greeting. “Hello. Don't I know you from school? You're Peter.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, nervously licking his lips. “That's my name. Don't wear it out.” He stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets before realising he should be helping. “Do you want some help? These things can get everywhere,” he offered, bending down to immediately start scooping up the small coins. 

“Thanks.” She gave him an encouraging smile as they continued to pick up every single penny until there were none left. “Oh, thanks,” she mumbled with embarrassment when he handed over his catch, briefly touching her fingertips as he did so. 

The feeling was electric. 

“You're welcome,” he stated, and swivelled his body to rise and leave. 

This was it, she HAD to keep his attention. “Do you like chocolate chip cookies?” she blurted out. 

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I have some that need eating up, if you fancy one,” she proffered. “Won't cost you anything. And I can even throw in a free cup of coffee to go with it, if you like.”

His eyes slightly narrowed. “What's the catch?”

“There's no catch,” she hurriedly assured him. “I just wanted a bit of company while I finish up here. It gets a bit creepy being here all on my own until Mark arrives at five to cash up.”

“Alright then,” he agreed, leaning as nonchalantly against the counter as he could. “Mine's white, two sugars.”

“Yes, right away,” she stammered, and set about making him a fresh cup. It was really weird feeling his eyes following her every movement. And if she threw in an extra wiggle or two, that wasn't so bad, was it? Having those soft brown eyes visually caress her curves was a dream come true; especially as the usual grumpy expression on his face had been replaced with a pleasant smile. Turning on the hot milk tap, she conversationally commented, “You used to be in my science class.”

“I remember.”

That shook her, and she turned to stare at him as the machine finished hissing. “You remember me?”

“Of course I do.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a near smug way. “Did you think I hadn't?” He shook his head in wonder. “Honestly, did you? You once flashed me your bra strap for a bet, but ended up showing a bit more of it than you intended.”

“Oh, that!” She flushed crimson with embarrassment.

“Deep pink with white embroidery and tiny bows on it, from what I remember,” he reminisced. Seeing her shocked expression, he tacked on, “But I could be wrong.”

“No, that was the one,” she quietly confirmed. “Here's your coffee.” 

The mug was placed on the counter top in front of him. But something was missing. “Wasn't I promised a cookie?”

“Oh yes!” She instantly dropped out of sight and bustled about beneath his vision. Reappearing, she cautiously placed a large paper bag in front of him, and bashfully declared, “Here you go.”

He peeped into the bag. “These don't look like the usual cookies you sell here.”

“No, they're not,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip anxiously. “You see, the thing is... I made them... at home. In case you came in and we'd run out. And today we ran out.”

“You made them for me!” He was dumbfounded. What exactly did this mean? “Why?”

“Well... you always look so miserable as you come up the escalator so I thought...” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why not make something to cheer you up. Because that's what you need, and I had some free time...” Her voice drifted away as his grin grew broader. “Don't mean nothing by it.”

“D'you know what? That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me,” he confessed, biting into one of the cookies. His look of pleasure soon soured, and he forced himself to swallow the morsel. “A very nice thought,” he choked out.

“Oh no!” she cried in horror. “Did I over do the salt? I _knew_ I'd put it in already, but I wasn't sure, so I added some more.”

“How much did you add?” he gasped out.

“Another tablespoon, just like the recipe said,” she defended her actions. “That's what 'tsp' stands for.”

“Teaspoon,” he corrected. “It stands for teaspoon. A tablespoon would be 'tbsp'.”

“It does?” she faintly asked. “Oh my God! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to poison you but Mum was in such a rush to get me out of the kitchen because Dad needed his dinner and then Auntie Madge was coming round so before I knew it I was being shoved out of the kitchen, and as it was I barely stopped them being burned to a crisp...”

“Stop!” he interrupted her, laying a comforting hand on her arm. “It's okay. Honest. Could happen to anyone. Well...” His cheekiest grin came out in full force. “...anyone who'd flashed her bra at me.”

He giggled when she inevitably swatted his arm. 

“Shut it, you!” she grumbled. “At least I managed to stop you being so grumpy for a few seconds.”

“You did,” he agreed. “Now consider this, Nellie; how about you continue doing that by letting me give you lift home on my motorbike?”

“Seems only fair,” she allowed; and secretly smirked to herself.


End file.
